Charlie Burns Plus Eight
by obi-glasses
Summary: Rescue Bots: "Charlie was tempted to look and see what the look on the firetruck's face was, but decided against it until such time as he knew whether or not his 'I Am Father And You Will Obey Me' voice worked on a red alien robot or not." One-shot.


_I think I'm like the first person to write Rescue Bots fanfiction. Go me. waves foam finger lazily Anyways: fanfic. Please review, I live off of reviews, sodas and cup-o-noodles. Did you know two reviews give you your whole daily value of Vitamin R? It's true._

_...No it's not. Look, just read the fic, okay? I'm running out of things to say. _

0000

Chief Charlie Burns was a remarkably tolerant man. Four children combined with being the chief of police for an entire island tended to help remold you into, at best, a patient, tolerant and smart man, or at worst a complete nutjob.

Now, however, he had four extra children (well, that was being kind of mean to Chase. Chase was quite mature when you were watching him). Four tall, metallic, transforming children.

And two of them were currently screaming at the TV, making quite the interesting show of themselves.

"_No! The frag is wrong with you? Don't you even think about- He's just a lying- You can't even-!_"

Heatwave was particularly caught up in the moment; apparently Dorothy and William were doing something or other and the man had asked for her hand in marriage despite the fact that he already had a wife and blah, blah blah, blah. _Blah_. Charlie would rather have had a good sitcom, but it wasn't his TV so he really didn't have any say in the matter. He was just down here to repair the coffee-maker, after all.

"Oh, no, William, what's wrong with you? Susan's a perfectly good woman, you're such an _idiot,_" Blades lamented from his spot a few feet back (he'd had to move after Heatwave had started waving his arms in rage).

"Why the _hell_ are you rooting for _William?_ He's an asshole! He doesn't even deserve that little shrew from the gas station- Beatrice or Betty or-" Heatwave threw his arms up in the air again and shrieked a word that Charlie dearly hoped wasn't a Cybertronian curse.

"Her _name_ is Amber, and she's a wounded girl who needs a steady job to help decrease her stress." Blades aimed a rather displeased look at Heatwave's back. "_Geez,_ Heatwave, you can't ever root for the underdog?"

"I'd root for the underdog if the underdog wasn't a lying, cheating little sack of slag," Heatwave snapped, his yellow optics never leaving the TV. "Oh, _dammit. _Commercial break." He sat back in his chair and nearly fell over for his efforts. Blades found it incredibly funny, judging by his wheezy, clicking laughter.

"Shuddup," Heatwave growled. Charlie was tempted to look and see what the look on the firetruck's face was, but decided against it until such time as he knew whether or not his 'I Am Father And You Will Obey Me' voice worked on a red alien robot or not.

"So," Blades said, his face still slightly twitching, "do you think Michael's ever gonna confess that man-crush he's got on David?"

"He doesn't have a man-crush on David; he _admires _David. That's completely different." Heatwave shot the white-and-orange helicopter a dirty look before turning back to the show. "Oh, no."

"Don't say yes don't say yes don't say yes- oh oh oh-" Blades made an odd little squeaky noise that reminded Charlie of Cody when there was something tasty just out of his reach. He took the water-spigot and twisted, attempting to carefully remove it from the rest of the coffee-maker, and accidentally snapped it off with a loud _plang _noise, thoroughly drowning out the woman's reply.

"_Scene change!_" Heatwave roared, and turned to look down at the police chief with murder in his optics. Blades looked more interested in the floor than the scene about to unfold.

"So? It'll change back," Charlie said, trying to sound unafraid with a 20-foot robot staring him down.

"It's _two-fiftee-fahve pee-em,_" Heatwave snarled, enunciating the words carefully in a failed attempt to sound threatening. Charlie's moustache twitched as he shoved down a laugh. "Once this scene ends, the credits roll, and we don't get a new episode until _next Monday._"

Charlie took this opportunity to set aside his project (which was irreversably broken now anyways) and stand up, to look up at the towering mass of conclusion-denied robot, and said in his best 'I'm In Charge' voice, "Deal with it."

And then he turned on his heel and walked to the elevator, somehow managing not to furiously punch the 'up' button even when he heard the barely-held-back engine snarls coming from behind him. And the wheezy sniggering.

The moment he was deposited on the main floor of the firehouse, he bolted out and collapsed against the closed doors of the elevator, panting heavily, his heart ready to jump out of his chest. Cody was sitting at the table, and looked up to see his frazzled father. "Dad?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just had a lucky break. Don't go downstairs- whatever you do, _don't go downstairs_, at least for an hour." Charlie looked at Cody, his gaze holding many years of experience that had just saved his ass. He stood up straight and headed to the garage, his young son looking after him in complete confusion.


End file.
